


Hypothetically

by supersymmetry



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: (just casual consumption), A LOT OF DIALOGUE, Alcohol, An incredible inability for two brilliant minds to communicate, Blind Date, First Kiss, M/M, Not a Date, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), Uprising? I don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 04:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersymmetry/pseuds/supersymmetry
Summary: "Might as well just have dinner. Right?”“...Right."“We’re here. We look good. Let’s eat at this nice-ass place.”“Yes.”“As colleagues. Slash world-savers.”“Absolutely.”_____________Aka Tendo sets Newt and Hermann up on a blind date because someone had to.





	Hypothetically

At 7:03, Hermann starts to absentmindedly drum his fingers on the table. Any of his soft tapping is swallowed in the humming of the modestly busy restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. 

He looks up at the sound of the door opening. A couple enters. A few minutes later, the door opens again. A family of five. The next time the door opens, Hermann doesn't bother to look. Until he hears a familiar voice ask the hostess, "Hey, I'm meeting someone here—”

Hermann snaps up. Newt stands in the entryway, hair freshly washed, donning a colorful floral shirt under a faded denim jacket. The hostess gracefully motions toward Hermann's table. Newt's eyes widen for the briefest of moments but then he breaks out into a wide grin. Shrinking down in his seat, Hermann instinctively reaches a hand toward his cane, as though he could try to make a quick escape.

"Uh, hey," Newt says with a small, uncomfortable laugh, sliding into the chair opposite Hermann. “So..."

“Tendo?"  Hermann sits back up, straightening his shirt.

"Yeah. That bastard.” Newt leans back in his chair. "Ever since he and Alison got together, he bragged about having a gift.”

With an attempt at a smirk, Hermann raises his menu before his face. "He said something about having an eighty-seven percent success rate.”

"And you didn't ask to verify those statistics, _Doctor Gottlieb_?" Newt asks with mock surprise. His glances around the room. "But he was right about one thing.”

"Oh?" Hermann fixes his eyes to the appetizer section.

"This place is pretty nice. for being in a city that was half-destroyed a year ago.”

Newt continues to look around, seemingly studying every facet of the decor. The soft, warm lighting. The pastel blue walls with framed vintage photo of Los Angeles before 2017. It has the air of a small, family-owned establishment, in which the youngest member—perhaps the owners’ adult child—had reign over the design sensibility.

A server comes by with water. "Thank you, thank you, uh—” Newt checks the server’s name plate. “Kris.” Kris flashes a quick smile. "Do you two have any questions?” they ask. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

"Wine," they both say in unison. They turn toward each other. "Uh..." Newt peers over the top of his glasses and quickly scans the back of the menu. "Can we get a couple glasses of the 2025 Chardonnay? Thanks.”

Hermann speaks up, “We will need a few minutes, thank you." Kris nods and departs. Exhaling, Hermann turns back toward Newt. "We don’t…You don't need to do this.”

“What? I know it’s the second cheapest on the list, but honestly, that trick works—”

“No, not that,” Hermann waves a hand. “This. Dinner.” He sighs. "I don't know what he was thinking," he murmurs.

"Yeah. Right. But..." Newt finally makes eye contact and Hermann's heart stops. "Might as well just have dinner. Right?”

“...Right."

“We’re here. We look good. Let’s eat at this nice-ass place.”

“Yes.”

“As colleagues. Slash world-savers.”

“Absolutely.”

As they pause, Hermann’s hand starts drumming on the table once more. “Hey—” Newt reaches across to grab Hermann’s hand and Hermann’s entire body freezes. “That’s new.” Maneuvering the hand to observe from various angles, Newt murmurs, “Anything else?”

Hermann clears his throat. “Just…a general increase in fidgeting. Tapping my foot, for example.”

The corners of Newt’s mouth quirk up into an odd grin. “Really? Interesting…All I’ve gotten is an impulse to buy some sweaters.  _Kidding_. But here.” He presses down on the area between Hermann’s thumb and index finger. Hermann gasps aloud. “When my hands get antsy, I get a lot of tension there.” Newt massages the area and starts to work outward in small circles. “Better?”

Two wine glasses are set down on the table. Hermann quickly retracts his hand as Kris pours a splash of the wine into Hermann's glass. He swirls it, takes a small sip, and nods. "Great, thank you." 

"Wonderful." Kris pours wine for the two of them. “Are you both ready?” They quickly give their orders. When Kris leaves, they raise their glasses. 

“Cheers?” Newt says with some level of uncertainty.

“Cheers.”

“To saving the world.”

“That's a bit hyperbolic.”

“Hey, that’s no way to impress your date.” Newt lets out a small laugh but quickly stops himself. “Uh, yeah. Anyway.” They tap their glasses together. 

As soon as Newt takes a sip, he recoils. “God, that’s horrible. I don’t know why I thought white wine would be a good idea.”

Hermann takes a thoughtful drink and rolls his eyes. “It’s _fine_.”

Newt shrugs. “Just not my thing, I guess. So..." he starts lightly. “It’s been a month, dude. What have you been up to?”

Hermann exhales. “From Hong Kong...I spent a couple weeks with Karla and her family. They moved to Berlin recently.”

“Nice! See, I always knew your sister was cool.” Newt leans back in his chair. “How’s everyone? The kiddos?”

“Happy. Relieved. But they just don’t know…They can’t possibly imagine the extent of everything that happened from where they are...” He shakes his head. “It was...nice. If not a bit surreal.” Newt nods as Hermann continues. “From there, Berkeley. Then, Caltech. Discussed predictive modeling, shared some research. Other matters. And then..." He glances around. "I just arrived in Los Angeles today.”

“Ah, Caltech. My old enemies of Pasadena," Newt says with a grin. “And Berkeley—I’m assuming that’s where you ran into Tendo?” 

Hermann nods with a sigh. “He...convinced me to come here after visiting Caltech.”

"Go figure. I might have to go up there and tell him off or something. So.” Newt looks down, tapping the table with his index finger. “Any…talks of joining faculty up at Cal?”

“Possibly.”

“Cool. That would be cool.”

After a pause, Hermann pushes forward. “What about yourself? Surely universities are clamoring for you to join them.”

Newt’s face doesn’t change. “Yeah…I don’t know, man.”

“Have you spoken with anyone?”

“Not yet, I…” Newt takes another drink. “I just got in from Hong Kong on Monday.”

“And yet no meetings with universities? Biotech companies?” Hermann permits himself a small laugh. “Journalists?”

Newt waves a hand. “Dude. I haven’t checked my inbox _at all_ in the past three weeks. Literally haven't opened it once. And I…kind of want to keep it that way for another month, at least. A few, if I can get away with it.” He laughs, rotating his wine glass from the stem, counterclockwise. “Universities will be here at in a month. Capitalism will be here. Unfortunately. Press will be here.

"I'm just  _tired_. Like.” Newt pauses, rubbing his right eye. "I don't know why. We were medically cleared. I double-checked the results myself. Nothing _too_ abnormal going on, brain-wise.” He exhales. "All I want to do is just...rest. Sleep."

"Sleep? Every night?" Hermann says with mock scandal, but he pivots to a low, serious tone. "Newton. You've been working nonstop, not just for the past ten years, for the past twenty. Between school, research, the war..." He shakes his head. “You need rest.”

Newt stares at Hermann as though he just admitted to murder. “Thanks, man,” he finally says. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Get used to what?”

“You. Being on my side.”

Hermann takes a drink. “Newton, we’ve always been on the same side.”

∆

Their food arrives swiftly, and they replace idle conversation with the clinking of silverware against their plates. It isn’t until they’re nearly done that one of them speaks.

"You look good," Newt says without looking up.

Hermann swallows. "I-...what?"

"For this would-be date," Newt says hastily, forking another ravioli. "Is that new?" He gestures at Hermann's shirt. "I honestly can't remember the last time I saw you in something beside your dusty sweaters."

Rolling his eyes, Hermann can't help but tug at the sleeve of his linen shirt. "It is." He turns his gaze at the umbrella stand by the door. "I hadn't packed for this trip anticipating anything of this nature."

"Hm," Newt murmurs through a sip of wine. "It’s a good pick, that’s all I’m saying."

Hermann closes his eyes. “Believe it or not, I have been on dates before.”

“I know.”

The two pause.

With more caution and precision than Hermann ever witnessed Newt treating tissue samples, Newt sets his wine glass down. “I mean, I’m sure you have,” Newt fumbles. 

It's a clumsy recovery, but Hermann is more than willing to change the subject. "You...look clean,” he says. “Presentable, even."

Newt laughs. "Gee, thanks." He fiddles with his jacket collar. "Was trying to look like I didn't just come out of a decade-long mental battle with some aliens crawling out of an inter-dimensional rift in the middle of the ocean.”

"It's quite fitting." Hermann takes a drink. "For a tourist in Los Angeles."

Newt lets out a resounding "Ha!" that sounds sarcastic to the passer-by but Hermann knows is sincerely amused. Hermann flushes. "Come on, man," Newt feigns a plea. "I brought out the best of the best."

"This is your best?" Hermann twists his mouth into a wry grin.

“Well, it’s been a while.” Newt shrugs. “I was looking forward to it.”

Hermann’s hand tenses. “Ah,” he says flatly.

Newt’s eyes widen. “No, that’s not—that’s not it at all.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m actually really glad to see you. Relieved, honestly. I—”

“Can I get you two anything else?” Kris says, suddenly beside their table. The pair glance at one another. “The check,” they say in unison. 

A few minutes later, Kris returns with the check and Newt hands over his card before Hermann has the chance. “I’ve got it, dude. Just Venmo me later.” 

When the final check is provided, Kris wishes the pair a good night. They reciprocate and Newt pulls the book toward him. “Hey, uh. I know we’re done with this official like “date.” or whatever. But…” he says, calculating the tip. “Do you wanna grab a drink or something?”

∆

They step into a dim cocktail bar down the street, lit by trios of Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling and clusters of mason jar candles on the tables. Newt scoffs. “ _Newton_ ,” Hermann hisses as a hostess approaches the range of earshot. They’re quickly seated in a booth toward the back and a server takes their drink orders. 

“I’ll take…hm...the Grasshopper.”

“A gin and tonic, please,” Hermann immediately follows.

When the server leaves, Hermann lets out a sigh of relief. Newt gives him a questioning look. "I could not take any more synchronicities," Hermann says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not tonight."

They sit in silence until the server returns with their drinks. “A G and T, though?” Newt laughs, playing with the umbrella and fruit garnishes on his drink. “You’re on vacation. Lighten up, much?”

Hermann raises his glass. “This is me, lightening up,” he says gravely. They tap their glasses together, say “Cheers,” in unison, and drink in silence.

“God,” Newt says with a sigh. “That’s awesome. No one in the Shatterdome could make a cocktail worth a damn. Everyone was too busy being all tough, drinking straight whiskey or whatever. You gotta try this—” 

Newt pushes his bright green drink toward Hermann, who takes a small sip from the martini glass. He pushes the glass back toward Newt. “That isn’t a drink, that’s a _dessert_.” He coughs as he pushes his highball glass forward. "Would you, as well—?” 

"Uh, okay. Let's see." Newt takes a quick drink. "Not as bad as I remember these being. The lime's nice." A wide grin grows on his face. "Pretty cool, right?"

"'Cool?'"

"Like, we've only ever had anecdotal accounts of the residual effects of drifting." Newt leans back, resting his right arm along the top of the booth seat. "And there haven’t been any good, clean studies on it. _Not a priority_ , I totally get it. So it's _cool_ that we can experience it ourselves. These nuanced behavior pattern alterations.”

Hermann remains silent. The drumming starts but he quickly takes his hand off the table. “‘Cool’ isn't how I would describe this. ‘Unsettling,’ perhaps.”

Newt shrugs. “Tomato, tomahto. Most traits are held constant, anyway.”

“Fortunately for me.”

Newt laughs and his face lights up in a way that Hermann hasn’t seen in years. Early on in their in-person acquaintance, when they would be in the same room in standing in opposite corners. He held certain ease in knowing himself and having confidence in the utility his work. An ease that dimmed slightly over time, throughout a decade-long uphill battle. But in this moment, it’s bright. Hermann flushes.

“California suits you,” he murmurs.

“Hm? Maybe.” Newt takes another drink. “Amazing what a good night’s sleep will do—” He pauses, face falling. “A figurative good night’s sleep, I guess.”

Hermann's left leg starts to shake. “Do you...” He starts and stops, changes course, voice hollow. “I haven’t been sleeping well, either.”

Newt drums his fingers on the table. “We’ve been through a lot, man.” Hermann doesn’t respond, Newt cocks his head to get a glimpse of his face. “You okay, there?”

“Something you said earlier.” Hermann inhales and exhales deeply. “How...how do we know?”

“Know…?”

“How do we know everything will still be here in a month?” Hermann asks, voice barely above a whisper. “That everything will remain as it is?”

“Oh.” Newt chases the remaining ice in his glass with his straw. “I guess we don’t.”

∆

The bar gets more crowded over time, and the gentle murmur of voices grows into a steady buzz. Newt gets up and brings back a couple glasses of water for the two of them.

“What are your plans? For this break of yours?” Hermann sets down his glass of water.

“I...I really don’t know.” Newt exhales. “Thought I’d just travel a bit. Visit my dad and uncle. See the Atlantic. Indian. Arctic. Literally _any other_ ocean. And then after that?” He shrugs.

“Have you considered going back into teaching?” Hermann asks, taking a drink. 

“Yeah, definitely, but like…” Newt gestures. “I just…I don’t know.”

Hermann leans forward, setting his glass down. “You taught for _years_.”

“That was _before_.”

“You’d be better at it now.”

They’re quiet. “Did you see that?” Newt asks softly, with a weary laugh. “Something from my first year of lecturing?”

Hermann clears his throat. “I…I suppose so.”

“God, what a fucking _mess_ that was.” Newt runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, did they really expect an eighteen-year-old to manage a lecture hall of undergrads? They were _my age_.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Hermann pauses. “Your t-shirts certainly didn’t help give you a sense of authority, however.”

“I wasn’t _quite_ the fashionista you find before you today, sure.” Newt finishes the rest of his drink. “We never really…talked about it. Our drift.”

Hermann sets down his glass. “No,” he says stiffly. “We did not.”

Neither of them speak. The bar’s background hum is the only thing that makes sitting in this small booth bearable. The chatter of other patrons. The clinking of glassware stacking. Hermann checks his watch. 10:37.

“How late is it?” Newt leans over the table to get a look. The warmth of his proximity sends an unexpected shiver down Hermann’s spine.

“Late,” Hermann manages to say. “Or approaching it, anyway.”

Newt sits back down. “If you’ve got stuff to do tomorrow—”

"No, but...perhaps..."

"Yeah. Should probably be getting back soon, anyway." Newt pulls out his phone. "Try to fix this nightmare sleep schedule."

Hermann follows suit. "Where are you staying?” he asks without looking up.

“Airbnb in Culver City. You?”

“A hotel in downtown.”

“Cool, cool.” Newt sets—or rather, gently tosses—his phone down on the table. “My ride’ll be here in, like fifteen minutes.”

“Eight minutes on my part.”

“Figures.” 

There is a long pause and all Hermann can hear is the blood pounding in his ears. Slowly, he looks up from his phone. “I…I beg your pardon?” He can feel heat building in his cheeks. 

Newt’s eyes are wide in horror. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” Hermann says slowly.

Their eyes lock. The white noise of the bar is drowned out and they are frozen in an unbearable silence. Finally, Newt breaks his gaze away.

“I mean, you left,” Newt finally says. He laughs wryly. “Like, all this stuff happened. You know. The world nearly ending, us saving it. Or _playing a significant role_ , at least,” he adds judiciously. "And then one day you were just _gone_. Without a word.”

Hermann’s throat clenches. “I—” he starts. “My work was done—”

“Dude, we were in each other’s heads. You saw...You saw everything.” Newt’s voice starts to rise in pitch and volume. “But I also know what I saw. So, like…why the _fuck_ did you just leave?”

A pause. 

When Hermann finally speaks, he keeps his voice low to prevent it from wavering. “Drifting does not make us omniscient,” he says. “I didn’t know what...how to proceed.”

“Yeah, but...” Newt crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. “All the cards were out on the table. All of them.”

“ _You_ never said anything.” Hermann’s voice breaks out at last. 

“ _You didn’t ask._ ”

They’re in a standstill until Hermann’s phone vibrates with a notification: _Your driver Sadia will be there soon! Be outside in 2 minutes._

Hermann looks away. “I’m...sorry.”

“Nah, me, too.” Newt slides out of the booth and stands. 

Pulling himself up, Hermann extends a hand. “Newton."

"Uh...yeah." Newt clasps Hermann's hand and a jolt runs through Herman's body. "I guess," he says, still holding on. "I guess...I'll see you around? Figuratively."

As their handshake slows to a halt, their hands stay gripped, eyes unable to break away from each others' gazes.

"Newton."

"Yeah?"

Hermann swallows. "If I...asked you now—”

" _Yes_."

At that, Hermann pulls Newt in close and their lips finally meet, igniting a frenzy of motion. Newt breaks off their drawn-out handshake and wraps an arm around Hermann’s waist and Hermann weaves his hands through Newt’s hair. Newt brings a hand to Hermann's face and Hermann shivers at the sensation of Newt's thumb brushing against his cheek. The motions themselves are new but the volley is a familiar rhythm. The back and forth, push and pull. “God,” Hermann hears himself say. 

When they finally break apart, Newt’s cheeks are flushed pink, glasses slightly askew, hair mussed. They share nervous laughter. Hermann turns redder upon noticing a few other patrons diverting their eyes from their direction.

“Would you...” He clears his throat. “Would you like to accompany me back—”

“Yes. Jesus, finally. Wait.” Newt pauses. “Let’s go back to the place I’m staying at instead.”

“Why?”

Newt’s face flushes. “Well, uh...It just seems a bit more...private? Nice?”

Hermann cancels the ride, despite knowing how this will affect his account, and eight minutes later, he and Newt climb into another car. They’re silent, save for a few pleasantries exchanged with the driver and Newt humming along to the radio. They arrive at a bungalow on a narrow, quiet street. “There’s a really cute coffee shop down that way,” Newt says as they walk up the driveway, pointing to their right.

“Already making plans for morning?” Hermann murmurs.

Newt waves him off, though his cheeks turn pink. Hermann smiles and looks up into the night sky. No stars, only the reflection of the city lights against the clouds. It’s a cool Los Angeles evening, but still a warmer February night than he’s ever experienced elsewhere. 

“Hypothetical,” Newt says, punching in the code for the lock with a wry grin. “If this _was_ a date…how would you say it’s gone?”

“ _Hypothetically?_ ”

“Yeah.”

They step inside together. “Better than I could have imagined.”

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the prompt "blind date" somewhere and set out to just attempt writing a lil drabble. And then it turned into...this.
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr @ breachtopology !


End file.
